Oneiros

We went back, Damien and I, back to the strange section of forest. Meeting him took some time; I had to navigate back to a familiar location for both us and then lead him to the school. Considering my… newness to this process we had to return to his parent’s house several times before I successfully got him there.

When we finally arrived I realized something was different. While the trees still writhed and twisted, and the blackened landscape warped to impossible shapes there was a sort of heaviness it hadn’t possessed when I’d first been there. I didn’t think much of it though, the Astral Plane is a strange place filled with all manner of foreign sensations. Damien led me through the thorny walls that changed constantly until we appeared at the source of the oddness. Or at least what I assume was the source.

Beyond our obstructions stood a sort of tear. It wasn’t physical or even explicitly visible, but on approach I felt something… it was sudden, a shifting downwards. The sensation was like that of an unexpected drop, and then an increase in the gravity that already affected this place. And moving closer I started to see another place overlaid onto the Astral world… a place of color over this shadowed land.

Damien pushed me through the rift. It wasn’t a physical push but a mental one… spiritual maybe, I’m not sure, but I know that through the other side I was granted the view of a snow covered landscape and orchid splintered skies. Massive trees stood before me, charcoal and crystalline silver, their long branches billowed down to the ground like arms stretched complete with gaping hands. A path cut between these great monoliths, illuminated by floating spheres of grey light, and branching off into several others. I stood at the boundary for some time, both in wonder of this world and in wait of Damien’s arrival. Damien never came through though; something had gone wrong and he never appeared into this world with me.

I pressed on without him. The main path through Oneiros lengthened with every my step forward forcing me onto one of the forest’s unlit backpaths. The forest grew malicious in darkness. Suddenly trees clustered, forcing me from the trail and roots sprang forth from the snow covered earth, grasping my ankles and bring me to the ground. But I continued through numerous falls and an ever increasing weight on my body. I pushed aside patches of nail-like thorns and climbed through icy brooks until I found the path’s grey light again.

Through the wood I returned back to the main path, and I stared in awe of what I saw before me. One great giant monstrous tree that stood higher than I could even conceive… if not for the vast canopy of leaves and branches over head I’d have not thought it ever stopped. And springing forth from this… this Yggdrasil’s roots rose seven more towers of bark. Each of these spires could easily contain several of the smaller trees within their scorched walls.

I ran towards these monumental structures, and as I approached it became clear that climbing round their trunks were scaffolds to scattered branches, each of which hung lighted bodies. The tiny figures swung in empty wind, suspended by black nooses. I stared up, sick with emotion: hatred, shock, and desperation. The grey orbs climbed the trees as well, and I raced up the uneven steps to the tree’s first gallow.

The children didn’t hang from a noose, rather a slim and tendril vine. It wrapped all about their frame holding them to the tree. I traversed the branches pulling the small bodies up one by one, looking upon their tiny faces. They looked so sad. Their eyes stood open, but just barely with a sleepy stare, they seemed not to understand where they were or even my presence. I pulled them all up and continued to another branch, and another and another and another, halting every child’s hanging. I was searching for the boy of course and preparing the rest, far more than I knew I could handle, to be released on my way back down. Twelve branches high I found him, we were then high above the ground, I pulled him up like all the others and then pulled gently on the vine strung around him.

Behind me something shone. I turned in surprise and was blinded by a great white light; my mind filled with a sense of panic and turned back to the boy’s enwrapped body now violently struggling to undo his bindings. With some luck I managed to pull the black vine from him and lifted him up, we started our run down the scaffolds, me leading his obedient shell. At the bottom branch it appeared. The Slenderman. It charged toward me, radiating… something, it wasn’t anger but something so much rawer, the first physical sensation I’d felt since entering this place. I fucking ran, dragged that boy with me and ran as fast as possible. It’s aura though, it brought the full wrath of gravity on me. Like trying to run in knee deep water I simply couldn’t move fast enough… and then I felt a jerk and heard noise for the first time.

A scream. The boy’s scream. It pierced the whole world.

The beautiful pink sky cracked at his shriek, and the color momentarily vanished leaving me in utter darkness lessened only by the distant orbs. I looked back… and through the boy poked an ebon lance. It parted into two black arms and ripped him into two. There was no gore, no blood, no body even; he just let out a final primal cry and evaporated into a flurry of snow. I jerked away and ran towards the lightened path… but then… no. I turned around and dashed to the closest tree. I came in here to save the boy and as a result caused his end but I refused to leave empty handed. I’d decided in that second that I’d save someone… or I wouldn’t leave.

Dashing up the stairway of my second tree I caught sight of the light that had blinded me before. On each trunk had spawned a thousand shining eyes, each silver and sideways, all of various size. I climbed the trunk to the first branch, chased by the Slenderman all the way. I pulled up the first body I found, stamping on her wrapping, and grabbed her in both arms. I turned and he blocked my escape. He left me only one choice.

I leapt. I jumped from that high up branch, hoping… praying that we’d survive. We shouldn’t have, it was much too high, at least sixty feet above the ground… and maybe that’s why we did. In dreams people rarely die, usually the impact or shock will awaken them. Even still my last act in that world was to wrap my body around hers for fear that I was wrong… to shield her sleeping body from the fall.

I woke up, eyes fuzzy but I felt the girl in my arms… and then, then somebody came over and dragged her away. I stood up and tried to tackle them but they moved out of my path, so I ran to the door bolting it and blocking their escape. They ran into Henry’s room and locked the door. I slammed into it trying to knock it down, screaming bloody fucking murder and threatening to kill whoever the fuck it was in there. And then I heard the window open. I heard the clanging of bodies out on the fire escape. I ran out to balcony armed with a vase… the closest thing of any weight I could find. By then though my eyes had cleared and I realized it was Henry escaping with the girl… that he was trying to save her from me…

I dropped the vase letting it shatter on the hardwood and just fell to the floor. I won’t lie; I spent about ten minutes there on the floor weeping. Crying that my friend felt a need to save the girl from me, that she was out there now where he could get her again despite all my efforts, that despite everything I’d still failed, that the boy got ripped to shreds and now I couldn’t even properly protect the one I’d saved in his place.

And then. Then realization struck. Henry was out there with that girl and it wasn’t going to stand for what I’d done. That Henry was in danger now as well. I tried to call him but got no response so I put up that other post of mine, the one pleading him to stay off the streets and to let me explain. I can only hope now that he listens.

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It's just wrong.

I don’t like this… it’s not right; this isn’t how it should be. I shouldn't want to go out there. Not when he’s out there. But I do… there’s this urge, this pull to see just what it seems to want to show me. He’s been coming to me in my dreams, like not appearing in them as a force like before, but somehow intruding. They’ve been serene, not nightmares just this strange place… a forest maybe… it’s hard to remember really, it’s very much a dream world, there's that incoherancy to it all. He isn’t an antagonist in the dreams though, not a frightening set piece either… it’s more of a person, an actual man of shadow. Is this why others call it "him" and "he" and their affectionate little nicknames? Does it come to them in dreams too; does it try to introduce itself as a man rather than a monster?

I’m sorry. I’m getting off topic.

Anyhow, there he is off in some place I cannot quite see… he… he stands there invitingly, like he wants me to come into the shadows with him. It’s been like this since he broke into… well appeared in the apartment. It’s actually pretty funny thinking of the big bad Slenderman kicking down the door or jimmying to the lock. It’s nice to have something to laugh about actually. But so I’ve been looking out to him when the static blares up and the voices from my laptop distort… and of course there he is. Strange thing is though, when I look out and I see him it’s no longer so intimidating… instead he’s in that same inviting stance. It’s like he wants me to come out and play….

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Sometimes I have weird dreams.

I write this having just awoken from a nice little nap... not that I'm having any trouble at all waking up early and then staying awake... I have no idea what you are talking about.

Anyhow. The dream reminds me of a book I had to read for class a few semesters back, "Vain Art of the Fugue," and while there are some light similarities I'm mostly just using this feeling to bump a pretty cool book, so yeah check it out, I'm going to get back on point now. The dream.

The dream was me just trying to live a day back in Austin. My brother was throwing some party, my mom went out shopping, and I was just trying to get out the door to hang our with some friends. Unfortunately I kept screwing it up. I'd fall alseep and sleep through my plans due to entertaining dreams (yes in my dreams, it's a fairly common occurrence in mine, though not as common as waking up and still being asleep), I'd make it out of my room to tumble down the stairs and be rushed to the hospital, I'd get outside and be carted off by my brother and his friends to some restaurant or movie. And it would just keep going, resetting and having me try it again, often with disastrous results for my person.

The final attempt was... interesting. I made it out of the room safely, not even a stubbed toe. I got wrangled into my brother's car but managed to remember my goal and escaped before they drove away and strode triumphant to the front lawn where I saw... two people. I suppose these people were supposed to be my friends but I had never seen them before. One was a pretty girl about my age she had dyed yellow hair and was fidgeting with a Tarot Deck. The other was a young black haired boy with his bangs in his eyes, he refused to look up at me or really even acknowledge me so much, he seemed to be here to hang out with the girl, he felt like a stranger to me. Regardless I sat down and lied back staring towards a sky that didn't exist, and spilling out a bag of turnips I had been carrying for whatever reason.

And then it happened, there was a pull, something behind my ripped me away from my lawn, a stream flowing backwards up into a cave and later a spiral. I tried to fight it and get back to the lawn but I wasn't strong enough, it pulled me backwards over grass and sidewalks, I saw my brother planning his party thing and called out to him but he couldn't make out what I said. So it went and pulled me all the way to its source, a white stone room up at the tip of the spiral, where I dropped a turnip I had tried to cling to and said "To hell with this I'm done."

I was in my house in the living room, the TV was on and I sat on the couch. My mom walked in finished with groceries and proceeded to bitch at me for something or another, but I was having none of it, it had been much too long a day. I clasp my hand shut at her and her voice stopped, I settled back into the couch and enjoyed my show. My brother walked in and asked me what I'd been shouting, but annoyed with him I wound my finger counter clockwise and he started to walk backwards out the door, talking in reversed gibberish all the while. The last things I saw before awaking were my mother angrily miming at him to come back inside not aware that I'd put her on mute, and a brief image of myself clapping as if to say "I'm done with this shit, Time to get up."

So before I leave you today I want to give you access to a couple little links

Somnium by Valor Kand's era of Christian Death, a song that I now alway think of when my dreams start to dream or I wake in a dream,
And a little info on "Vain Art of the Fugue"
~Kal

P.S. Actual content today. What the Balls?

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I've Come to Hate Sleeping

It's true. Not only am I now generally incapable of sleeping, I've begun to dread it. It started with dreams. Or perhaps, I'm simply remembering experiencing more dreams than I am used to. It isn't so much the content of the dreams, but the sheer amount of them. For a few delirious seconds after waking, all I can think of is the overload of fantastical stories that have been playing out in my head through the night. Speaking of waking. That may be the worst part of going to sleep. I know that, no matter how tired I am, I will wake up at most seven hours after laying down. I thought maybe it was the sun. So I covered the window. No change. And I wake up just as tired as I was when I went to sleep. But I think the worst part of waking up in the mornings is tied in with the dreams.


I'll have woken up in the middle of a dream, almost without fail. And then I try to get up. But it's like my dream refuses to let go of me and I'll either a) fall back into the dream, paralyzing while I am still conscious and slipping into the dream state while conscious that I am dreaming (though lacking the control conferred in lucid dreams) or b) manage to get out of my bed but still be held in the grasp of my dreams for up to five minutes or so. And if you haven't experienced such a feeling, let me tell you that having your brain trying to dream while you are trying to walk is extremely disorienting. This is nearly every morning for the last couple weeks.


More recently than that, merely laying in my bed gives me headaches. I don't know if it's the association I've begun to build with sleep, but I can't stand it. If I try to sleep longer in the mornings when I wake up unreasonably early, the headaches come. I tried to take a nap the other day - headache.


This is terrible. But I guess that's my bitch fit for the night.


-Michenab

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Unpleasant Dreams

The problem with dreams is the truth they contain. All the secrets that your subconscious holds, the things you don't want to admit. 

Lately I've been dreaming of my ex, I blame it on my natural inclination for nostalgia and on this feeling of loneliness. Also on the fact that I clearly miss cuddling. Anyhow the story behind the two of us is nice and long and I have no intention of getting into on here but suffice to say we broke up about a year ago. We broke up because she didn't know what she wanted and as result there was some serious strain on the relationship, eventually it led to me reluctantly calling for a change or an end. She ended up picking an end, and well that was pretty painful for me. Something that took too damn long for me to get over. Thing is that for the last year I've avoided admitting the strain was just as much my fault as hers, well maybe not just as much but I certainly contributed to it quite a bit. See, as you may have noticed I'm sorta immature, I'm also rather lazy, complacent, and dull. Turns out that's a bad mix for a relationship. 

Now the universe has my ex toying with the idea of us getting back together again, something I simply can't see working out. I haven't grown enough in the last year to make it work and I'm not sure she has either, and honestly I care too much about her to put either of us through that shit again. That might not make sense to you. I'm not afraid to put myself through it, pain is no stranger to me and its something I can reasonably endure. I'm afraid that if we give this what would now be a third shot I would finally become bitter about the whole deal and end up losing her as a friend, and making her lose me as a friend. And that would hurt her much more than I could stand. And well, maybe despite my feelings for her (and my apparent inability to keep my hands to myself) I just want to go and move on.

So while we might not talk much anymore, while I do plan to say no, I do miss her and I do care for her, and in some form or another I likely always will.

And to any mysterious interfolks out there giving this a read:
Thanks for listening
~Kal

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